


1.1 - Touch

by Khateeah



Series: McGenji Week [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beginnings, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, McGenji Week, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Touching, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khateeah/pseuds/Khateeah
Summary: Genji is a fortress, and Jesse's determined to get inside. But sometimes even the most complex of puzzles prove to be the simplest to solve.





	

It’s not like Jesse to skip out on an after party. But this is the UN, and even after all these years, there’s something about all the suits, the security, the small-talk and the handshakes that’s got him strung up on edge.

With a few polite nods, he excuses himself from the ballroom and slots by the bar, grabbing a neat whiskey before heading to the stairway to the rooftop. He takes the steps in easy strides of two, his fingers reaching to fish a cigarillo from the inner pocket of his jacket by the time he’s pushing through the exit door.

A rush of cool night air whips the skin of Jesse’s face as he steps out onto gravely concrete rooftop. His lips spread into a smile when he spots the silhouette seated at the roof’s edge. He’s not surprised to find Genji already here.

The cyborg doesn’t spare a glance as Jesse approaches and sinks to a seat beside him, two pairs of feet now dangling over the ledge side by side in the breeze.

“Ain’t bitter ‘cause you didn’t get a medal, are ya?” Jesse grins when Genji’s head turns toward him, and he thumbs the hunk of gold hanging by a thick blue ribbon from his neck. A soft laugh bubbles up in Genji’s throat, and the cyborg leans back on his palms, the soft green glow of his gaze shifting back to the swirling haze of smog against the dark, starless sky.

“No. It is best that I was not required to participate.”

“An’ why’s that?”

“I--” The question catches Genji off-guard, and his words escape him. What’s there to say? That he’d prefer to avoid public association with Overwatch? That the thought of being seen, being _recognized_ , however implausible, frightens him to the core?

“I am nervous to be seen. On television.” Genji improvises. Stagefright, of course. He glances to Jesse, who’s got that inquisitive look on his face, like he expects him to go on. He knows there’s more to it, of course he does. The cowboy isn’t as dumb as he looks. Genji swallows the lump in his throat. He’s remembering all too clearly the reason why he’s always hesitated to converse with Jesse at length. It’s far too easy, too natural, to say more than he means to when Jesse’s smiling at him, speaking in that honey-sweet accent that’s all too ready to fill up the nagging emptiness deep in his chest.

Jesse’s dangerous, and Genji’s reminded for the thousandth time how it’s no wonder he was recruited into Blackwatch.

With his hackles up, Genji is surprised when Jesse doesn’t press the issue further, opting instead for a deep swig of whiskey, followed by a pensive drag on his cigarillo. The sounds of the city press in, filling the silence - a welcome buffer against the ripples of tension rising between them.

“I get that,” Jesse says after a long moment. Though he knows little of Genji’s past, he’d picked up enough tidbits eavesdropping on Reyes’ phone calls concerning the cyborg’s recruitment nearly three years ago to understand they share a heck of a lot more in common than meets the eye. He knows that Genji’s recruitment had been one of opportunity, that he’d been human before his body had been re-built on Overwatch’s dime. And he knew that Genji was an assassin, ex-Yakuza. A Shimada, in fact, and that made him a fugitive of the most powerful crime family in all of Japan. Jesse didn’t envy him one bit - the Shimada Clan made Deadlock look like child's play.

“Is that so?” Genji sounds incredulous. Jesse hardly blames him.

“Yep. I’d like to tell you it took me years to stop looking over my shoulder. But the truth is, I still do.” It’s a bold statement, and Jesse can practically see the confusion creep over Genji’s face beneath his mask. It occurs to him that Genji knows even less about him than he knows about Genji, and he can’t hide the little smile the fact brings to the corner of his lips.

“I know where you come from.” The humor fades from Jesse’s face, and as he continues it’s clear he’s not speaking in terms of geography. “What sort of life that is. What it does to people.”

Genji shifts in his seat, his gaze fixed fast on the horizon, now streaked with wide stripes of subtle purple and peach behind a shadowy mural of clouds. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable.

Jesse isn’t deterred. He drains the last of his whiskey and smacks his lips, welcoming the warm, familiar burn in his throat. Liquid courage, and he’s going to need it tonight if they keep down this path. “I dunno if you’ve heard of the Deadlock Gang, but they all but raised me. I wasn’t but twelve years old when they swept through my town. Ended up takin’ me with ‘em.” Though he’s looking straight ahead, his peripheral vision doesn’t miss the way Genji’s fingers twitch against the ground.

Silence again. The ball’s in Genji’s court. Jesse takes one last, long drag on the stub of his cigarillo before he snuffs it out on the sole of his shoe, flicking the butt over the roof’s edge. He savors the last pull of mellow, earthy-sweet taste of smoke swirling in his mouth, his lungs, exhaling only when he feels the buzz of the nicotine swimming in his head. Though it calms him, he can’t help but feel the ripples of tension building to waves, and Jesse’s sure Genji’s about to up and leave when he breaks the silence at last.

“It never leaves you.” Genji’s words are soft, barely more than a whisper warbling in the vocalizer at his throat. Jesse nods. “It--” Genji stops short, and Jesse looks at him. The cyborg’s shoulders are bent beneath the fitted jacket draped over his shoulders, the metal point of his chin drooping towards his chest. Jesse feels his stomach sink. Genji’s pain is palpable, and it blends with his own, a shared melancholy that hangs heavy in the air between them.

“I know.” Jesse shuts his eyes, and before he can stop himself, his arm rises to settle around Genji’s shoulders. The touch makes Genji flinch.

_Shit._

Jesse’s eyes snap back open. He’s done it now. He’s made a mistake, broken the fledgling connection between them. Guilt and regret crash over his head, but even through the raucous in his conscience, there’s no mistaking the pressure beneath his arm when Genji leans into the embrace.

His mind wipes blank. Genji’s hand finds his waist. Jesse breathes.

And they stay.

 


End file.
